


Not Normal (Normal in its own way)

by GilliganGoodfellow



Series: Force of Nature [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: ASMR, Asexual Character, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hand Feeding, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Lambert, M/M, Pampering, Protective Eskel (The Witcher), Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sensuality, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Soft Vesemir (The Witcher), Some smut (Not involving ace characters)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: “Tonight is going to be for you, Lambert. Just for you. We love you, and we want you to feel that love back.”Upon learning about Lambert's sexual preferances, or rather lack of there in, Eskel, Jaskier and Geralt invite the youngest Wolf to spend a specially tailored evening with them.
Relationships: Eskel & Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Vesemir & Tissaia de Vries
Series: Force of Nature [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971706
Comments: 37
Kudos: 119





	1. Hot Springs

_“I’m...not normal.”_

_“That isn’t true.” Eskel says, before turning back to Jaskier and Geralt. “He_ is _normal. Just in his own way.” He taps Lambert’s shoulder. “Come on…”_

 _“I’m...I don’t like...no, I don’t_ want _sex. I like...other things from people, instead.”_

* * *

There are not many things in Kaer Morhen that Lambert will describe as heavenly. 

Yes his own bed can be a warm and welcome way to end each day. 

And then there is the kitchen. Vesemir is a great cook, not that Lambert will ever admit that to the old man's face.

But true heaven…

It was Vesemir who had told Lambert, then all of five years old, about the springs. 

The boy had fallen behind in his training that day, and earned a hiding as a result. Afterwards Vesemir had found him frightened, aching and sniffling in his bed, and had quietly handed the boy a bathing shirt before leading him to the caves beneath the keep. 

There, Vesemir explained how the waters were naturally heated by gases, and constantly replenished and drained by mechanisms that would put Mahakam to shame. Then he left Lambert to the waters, walking over to the entrance of the cave and meditating there while the boy swam and played in the middle of the night, the Keep asleep around them.

The warm waters healed all aches and pains, and they became a regular source of solace for Lambert throughout childhood and adulthood and now, with another year on the path behind him. 

As fire baskets burn in each corner, adding a warm glow to the room, Lambert sighs and closes his eyes, sinking into the water and allowing his body to slide off of the step-like seat that surrounds the edge of the pool. Now submerged completely, his hands run through his hair several times before he comes up for air. 

Lambert swam in here this morning, waking himself up with gentle exercise before breakfast, but now he has no intention of doing anything more energetic than climbing back onto the step, using a folded towel as a pillow for his head against the flagstone.

It’s evening in Kaer Morhen, so it isn’t long before Lambert has company. He nods in response to Eskel’s quiet greeting as the older Witcher slides into the pool, bringing water up with his hands to wash his shoulders and face, all while pretending not to notice the younger witcher watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Until he looks round, and Lambert sharply turns away, coughing and making a point of noticing some dirt under his nails.

As soon as Eskel stands to scrub soap down his legs, the younger witcher’s eyes drift back, traveling over well honed muscles and battle scars decorating the skin like brush strokes.

Lambert might not experience sexual attraction, but he isn’t fucking _blind_. 

Admiring Eskel is like admiring mastercrafted armour, and he takes in every angle as Eskel, who has always been about as shy as Skellige is warm, makes a show of putting the soap back and slowly sitting down on the step seat. He rests his arms on the flagstone behind him, head tilting back and rolling from side to side to work the tension from his neck.

“Like what you see?”

Lambert shrugs. “Seen worse.”

Eskel chuckles, and sighs as he relaxes. “Geralt and Jaskier will be here soon. Just checking on the horses. So enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

Lambert nods, then looks up as Eskel slips deeper into the water, swimming over and coming to stand in front of him. The scarred witcher smiles as he brings water warmed fingers to either side of Lambert’s face, stroking gentle nails up and warm fingertips down at the speed that he knows the younger witcher likes. 

It brings a comfortable glow to the point between Lambert’s chest and stomach, while the area of his head just left of his scalp begins to hum like a medallion next to magic. His eyes close, tensing slightly as Eskel’s hands slide down to his shoulders.

“You had a chance to think?” He asks, quietly. “About tonight?”

Lambert flinches, and Eskel lets out a slow breath, eyes patient as he looks at the younger witcher.

“Lambert?”

“It’s pity.” Lambert mutters. “Geralt thinks I’m broken.”

* * *

_“Did someone hurt you?” Geralt asks. “Sexually?”_

_“No.” Lambert shouts. “The fuck, Geralt, why would you think that?”_

_“It wasn’t caused.” Eskel says, looking from Lambert to Geralt and Jaskier. “He’s not afraid of sex. Not even repulsed by it.” He looks at Lambert. “Enjoys the performances at Crippled Kate’s the same as anyone.”_

_Lambert nods. “Just not the_ same _way.”_

_Eskel smiles. “He was born like this. It’s natural.”_

_Geralt nods. “Hmmm.”_

* * *

“Geralt doesn’t think you’re broken.” Eskel kisses the tip of Lambert’s nose before resting their foreheads together. “He cares about you, Little Wolf. Worries for you. We all do. Being all grown up doesn’t stop you being the baby brother.”

“Jaskier’s younger than me.”

“Jaskier didn’t use to ride around Kaer Morhen on Geralt’s shoulders.” Eskel chuckles, then looks to the side. “That’s an image. Damn bard’s nearly as tall as Geralt is.”

Lambert chuckles.

* * *

_“Well_ Julian _?” Lambert spits. “You’re quiet all of the sudden. Anything to say?”_

_Jaskier shrugs. “It’s all just a bit anticlimactic, if you ask me.”_

_“Anticlimactic?” Eskel blinks._

_“I mean, all that build up. ‘Something really important.’ ‘Worried how you’ll react.’ ‘Worried you’ll hate me.’ and then…‘I don’t like sex?’ That’s it? Melitele’s mercy, Lambert, I thought you were about to tell us that you’re a_ girl _.”_

_Geralt rolls his eyes. “Jaskier…”_

_“I did! Honestly._ Not _that there would have been anything wrong with it if you had. I actually had this whole speech prepared about my friend in Oxenfurt who decided that his name is Lucas.”_

_“Really?” Lambert says, incredulous._

_“The Dean held a special meeting about which dormitory he should sleep in. And we all basically_ told _them that he was staying in ours, and that was that.” Jaskier smiles. “Valdo attached a curtain rail to the ceiling so Lucas could hide his bed if he ever wanted to. Most decent thing the Cidarisian bastard ever did._

_“And one day, Lucas had been officially Lucas for about three months, and...”_

_Lambert smiles as he quietly listens to the adventures of Jaskier’s friend Lucas, the knot easing in his stomach when Jaskier and Geralt both smile back._

* * *

“And if they don’t like what I like?”

“Lamb, _they_ suggested this. They wouldn’t do that if they didn’t…”

“I’ve SEEN them together, Esk. I know what they like. They…”

“I like that stuff too.” Eskel shakes his head, reaching out and taking each of Lambert’s hands in his own. “But you know I also like this. With you.”

Lambert nods. 

“And I can’t speak for Jaskier, but _Geralt_...we were together more than once in our younger years.”

Lambert looks at him, his mouth a straight line as Eskel lifts up the witcher’s hands, kissing the back of the knuckles on the left, and then the right. 

“After sex, he liked to hold me. The way I held you that night in Novigrad. Save, secure, protected. Rocking back and forth. And he always had this _huge_ smile on his face the whole time he did it. I reckon it makes him feel good about himself, caring for someone. Giving them what they need.”

He gently squeezes Lambert’s hands. “Wasn’t just me he was caring for. He was caring for himself too.”

“It...helped him?”

Eskel nods. “And he used to like to hand feed me, too. Tiny squares of bread with jam. Fruit dipped in sugar.” He smiles, and rests a finger on Lambert’s lips.

Lambert mumbles something. 

“I didn’t hear that?”

“I’m not you?”

“No, you’re not. You’re _you_ . And it is _you_ that Geralt and Jaskier have invited.”

Lambert swallows. “And you’ll be there too?”

“I’ll be holding your hand the entire time, Little Wolf.” Eskel nods, his hands moving to stroke Jaskier’s wrists. “Tonight is going to be for you, Lambert. Just for you. We love you, and we want you to feel that love back.”

* * *

_“Do you...I know Eskel said you like the performances at Kate’s, but when me and Geralt are intimate, in the baths, do you want us to stop that around you?”_

_“No. No I...I don’t mind.”_

_“You_ can _ask us to stop. We understand.”_

_“I don’t want you to stop. I promise. It doesn’t freak me out at all. Just...don’t expect me to join in.”_

_“Would you join in if it was gentle things?”_

_Lambert looks at him._

* * *

It isn’t long before Geralt and Jaskier join them, the bard chatting away as they slide into the water. 

His trademark smile spreads across his face as Geralt grabs him from behind, pulling the bard into his lap and holding him there , looking at him like he might look at something treasured. 

Lambert’s stomach flutters, and his feet fidget beneath the water, toe scratching at foot as if scratching an itch. He is conscious of Eskel’s hand on his shoulder.

Jaskier accepts Geralt’s kiss and then laughs against his lips when the witcher’s hand slips down his chest and beneath the water. 

“People need to bathe in this water, Geralt.” He swats his shoulder playfully. 

Lambert watches the way Geralt’s arm wraps around the bard, holding him close so Jaskier’s head is against his shoulder. 

Lambert imagines his own head against Geralt’s shoulder. Held there.

Kept warm.

Kept safe. 

Geralt’s hand travels up, stroking Jaskier/Lambert at the base of the neck before cupping the back of the head, and Geralt kisses his scalp.

Lambert looks away, eyes focused on his own reflection in the water, mind focused on the sick, sticky feeling of loneliness now spreading across his insides. 

“Wish you were me right now?” Jaskier whispers, smiling as Lambert looks back. “Held by the big, _strong_ white wolf.”

Geralt hums.

Lambert pushes the water hard enough that the wave reaches Jaskier’s face, and the bard laughs.

He looks at Geralt. “Add it to the list.”

“List?” Lambert asks.

“The list of ways you are going to get sent to pamper heaven tonight.”

“Promise that you will never call it pamper heaven ever again.” Eskel says, his eyes closed. 

“Give me a better name and I’ll consider it.” Jaskier spits out his tongue.

Geralt chuckles, and pulls the bard closer. 

Next to Lambert, Eskel stands, grabbing a towel from the pile next to one of the pillars and wrapping it around his waist. He doesn’t leave the water though, instead sitting back down and quietly resting his arms around Lambert’s shoulders to pull the younger Witcher into his chest. 

The towel is unneeded, Lambert thinks. He trusts Eskel more than he trusts himself. But the towel is _why_ he trusts him. 

It’s a symbol, a shield. A line in the sand clearly marking where the border lies. Where nothing crosses. 

And he trusts Geralt and Jaskier as well. 

And he sighs as Eskel holds up Lambert’s arm, fingers dancing at the crook of the younger witcher’s elbow in a way that brings the warm glow back to his torso. 

_Tonight is going to be for you, Lambert._

And he feels excitement replace the loneliness. 


	2. Labels and Boxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to DanyTheET for helping me to come up with a "Witcher world friendly" term for ASMR. Sense Meridian :-D

_“Would you join in if it was gentle things?”_

_Lambert looks at him._

_The bard shrugs. “What I mean is...there’s other things. Hugging. Kissing. Caressing. Sense Meridian. Role Play. Oh, I know someone that likes to pretend to be a puppy. He sits in someone’s lap and just gets petted and...”_

_Lambert gives an amused snort, but says nothing._

_“OR, we don’t_ have _to do anything structured. We can just sit and be there, keeping each other company.”_ Jaskier rests his hand on Lambert’s arm. _“Not being alone all evening. I mean, it...I can’t help but feel...is it lonely?”_

_Lambert swallows, looking at Jaskier’s hand out of the corner of his eye. “There was a thing you said. Sense Meridian?”_

_Jaskier smiles._

_"What is that?" Lambert asks._

* * *

Geralt climbs out of the springs first, reaching down to take Jaskier’s hand and pull the bard up next to him. They walk out together, picking up towels on the way.

“See you upstairs.” Jaskier says, winking at Lambert as they pass. 

The room is quiet for a while, then Eskel moves round to stand in front of Lambert, who is still sitting on the step.

“Hey, Lambert. Sorry to go all serious on you, but there’s a couple of things I wanted to talk about. Before tonight. Call it battle prep.”

The younger witcher looks up at him. 

“The kind of play Jaskier has planned tonight, Sense Meridian, he and Geralt have done it with me a few times. And let me tell you, it’s amazing. Done right, it can send your body and mind into a _completely_ relaxed state, like you’re floating outside of the world.” He sighs, placing his fingertips on each of Lambert’s temples. “It’s like a medallion humming, but in your head and spine. Don't be scared of it. It’ll feel strange at first, but it won't hurt. And it isn’t sexual. It’s just your body enjoying itself in a different way. And I think you'll enjoy it too.” 

Lambert swallows. 

“ _But_ , if you need to stop, just say so. No questions asked, we just stop.”

Lambert looks down. 

“And don’t worry about looking weak. We _know_ you’re a tough bastard. You’ve got _nothing_ to prove to us, tonight. If you need to cry or be held, say so. This kind of intimacy, it can open up all kinds of emotions. If you let us see your pain, then we can soothe it. We’ll _want_ to soothe it.”

“Did you? When it was your turn?”

“Yeah.” Eskel sighs, and strokes the scarred side of his own face. “And I felt better afterwards. A _lot_ better.”

Lambert smirks. “I’m not going to pretend to be a puppy?”

Eskel laughs. “Jask told you that, did he?”

Lambert’s eyes widen, then he bites his bottom lip as Eskel steps closer, placing a hand on each of his shoulders, eyes looking into his.

Lambert looks down. “Do you think I’m weird?”

“I think you’re an ass.” Eskel smiles. “But no, I don’t think you’re weird. Why?”

“I want...intimacy, to be touched. But not sex. What’s the difference, touch is touch?”

Eskel picks up the younger wolf’s hand. “It’s _your_ body, Lambert. You decide _how_ it's touched.”

Lambert pulls his hand away. “Stopped being my body the moment they turned me into a Witcher.”

“All the _more_ reason to maintain control on what you can.” Eskel smiles. “This goes as far as you _want_ it to go. You don’t want sex, then you don’t want sex. If you decide you do, then you do. We’re not expecting anything. It’s about what _you_ need and want?”

“I don’t know what that is?” Lambert shakes his head. “I don’t know what I _should_ want?”

“Well then we’ll find out together. Take it nice and slow.” Eskel smiles. “Are you ready, Little Wolf?”

Lambert nods, and Eskel kisses him gently before speaking against his lips. 

“Then let’s begin.”

Eskel climbs out of the pool, picking up some towels and turning to Lambert. He dries him slowly, face, then chest and arms. He is gentle and slow at the top, stroking as much as drying. Then he moves down, quick and no nonsense as he dries Lambert’s lower half, before standing back up and switching towels to dry his hair.

He reaches for his bag, small clothes and a soft pair of cotton trousers that are far too large for Lambert, but fit well enough to be comfortable. He finishes the outfit with a loose white shirt that Lambert thinks might actually belong to Geralt, but he says nothing. 

Lambert gets dressed while Eskel dries and dresses himself. They leave the bag behind, Eskel taking Lambert’s hand and guiding him out of the Hot Springs and into the Keep.

In the main hall, they see Vesemir standing by the fire, and immediately make eye contact with each other before looking back at the eldest of the wolves... 

...who has forgone his usual armour in favour of a grandmaster collection, the chain mail shining, the leather clearly polished. 

“Reminiscing, old man?” Eskel says, his voice tinted with fond amusement. 

Vesemir shakes his head, and turns to face them. “A simple business meeting.”

“You got your best armour out for a business meeting?” Lambert says. 

Eskel smiles. “It’s with Tissaia isn’t it.”

Sure enough, behind them, a portal opens and a sorceress steps out, closing the portal behind her before brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. 

“Tissaia.” Vesemir bows, reaching out to take her hand and kiss the top. 

“Vesemir, old friend.” She turns to the younger Witchers, starting with Lambert. “Good evening, Pup. And Eskel, still as handsome as ever.”

“Arch-Mistress.” Eszkel bows slightly, earning him an eye roll from Lambert. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long.” She turns to Vesemir. “Is Triss here?”

“She has business in Temeria.” Vesemir indicates the way with a sweep of his arm. “I have wine and food prepared for us in my study. The boys are entertaining themselves tonight.”

Lambert clears his throat, squirming slightly. 

“So I see.” Tissaia smiles, taking in Lambert’s attire. Then she looks at his eyes, and her own eyes narrow.

_Interesting, Pup._

Lambert feels his medallion hum.

_But yes. What are the rules? How should people like you behave? So many questions. Confusions._

“I apologise for being late, Vesemir. Aretuza had a new student arrive that I needed to settle. Barely seven years old. Lost her temper and set fire to her orphanage.” 

“I see.” Vesemir says. “Was anyone hurt?”

“The estate owner, who apparently was a beast of a man so let’s not lose sleep.”

_Pup, why do you think we call them labels and not boxes?_

_Because boxes have walls._

“Goodnight Eskel. Lambert.” Vesemir says over his shoulder as they leave the main hall. 

Eskel chuckles. “Old Man always looks happy when Tissaia visits.”

Lambert isn’t listening to him. He’s listening to the voice in his head.

“Lambert?”

_Some Witchers favour swords while others the crossbow. Some favour light armour while others wear a heavier set. No two witchers are the same, they all find their own style on the path. But they are still witchers. They still share that single, common label._

_Now you’ve found another label for yourself, Pup. Who are_ you _around it? Sword or crossbow? Heavy armour or light._ Make _your_ own _rules. There are no others._

Lambert bristles slightly. But he also nods. 

_And know something else, Lambert. We are not the only people like us in the world. You’re not alone._

And he smiles, and looks at Eskel. 

“Sorry.” He shrugs. “Just thinking about tonight. Kinda excited, you know.”

Eskel grins. “Let’s go, then.”

* * *

They meet in Geralt’s room, a large table of buffet food set up in one corner, a tub full of water ready to be warmed in the other, and in the middle of the room are Geralt and Jaskier, sitting on the bed.

“So.” Jaskier grins as he stands, looking at Lambert. “What do you want to do first?”

Lambert looks at Geralt, sat on the bed with his back rested on a collection of pillows against the headboard. He has a fond smile on his face, one that seems to be just for Lambert.

_And don’t worry about looking weak. We know you’re a tough bastard. You’ve got nothing to prove to us, tonight. If you need to cry or be held at any point, you say so._

“Can I...well...it’s kinda pathetic.”

“ _Nothing_ is pathetic tonight.” Jaskier scolds. “This is a safe room.”

Eskel nods. “What happens in here doesn’t get discussed outside. And we know you’re tough. You don’t have to be here. It’s safe here.” 

“It’s just…” Lambert takes a deep breath. “...that looked nice earlier. The hug Geralt gave Jaskier in the baths. But…” He quickly looks at Geralt, his breath hitching. “Eskel...it should be...”

“Do you see Geralt in your mind, or me?” 

"Geralt." Lambert’s face turns red, and he curls in on himself with shame. Because it’s Eskel, Eskel who has always loved him and looked after him, and now here is Lambert curious about an experience with someone else. 

Because it was Geralt that put the idea on his head. It was Geralt when the fantasy was born. And...that who Lambert sees in his mind and...

Eskel smiles, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “It can be Geralt, Lambert. We’re _sharing_ this. No one owns anyone else.”

Jaskier nods. 

“I know you love me, Little Wolf.” Eskel’s voice is soft. “But you’re allowed to love Geralt too. He’s your brother as much as I am, and he cares about you as much as I do. Let him protect you, I know he wants to. And I want _him_ to be happy.”

Geralt nods, and encourages Lambert over, gently maneuvering the younger witcher to kneel across his lap, knees either side of Geralt’s legs, Eskel’s hand resting between his shoulder blades.

“Comfortable?” Geralt smiles.

Lambert nods, and closes his eyes again as Geralt pulls him into an embrace, his arm sliding under Lambert’s and curling round, cupping the back of the younger witcher’s head as it rests against Geralt’s shoulder. The other arm wraps around Lambert’s waist, and the witcher feels Geralt’s lips against his temple. 

He responds by wrapping his own arms around the older witcher’s neck, burying his face in the shoulder. 

“It’s not too much?” Geralt whispers. “I can change how I’m holding you.”

_Now you’ve found another label for yourself, Pup. Who are_ you _around it?_

“No.” Lambert says, quietly.

Geralt hmms, then tightens the embrace. He kisses Lambert’s head again, and the younger witcher sinks into the hold.

“Don’t fall asleep.” Jaskier whispers, gently tapping Lambert’s cheek. “We’ve got a whole evening planned.”

Lambert chuckles under his breath, and opens his eyes.

Watching the scene from the edge of the bed, Eskel rests a hand on Lambert’s ankle, and smiles. 

“A whole evening, Little Wolf.” He says. “Just for you.”


	3. Your Name Written Down

Lambert can remember being young. Being scared. 

The castle is big and cold and winter has brought strangers back from the path. The instructors are harsh and his arm aches from being grabbed and shaken while lessons are shouted into him. 

His legs hurt from falling to the ground during training. 

The other boys have their friends in the evening, sitting in groups, and Lambert is alone. 

He misses his mother.

He starts crying at dinner, and one of the older boys laugh. Calls him a baby. Makes the other boys laugh with him. 

Lambert wants to hit the boy, punch and kick them all. He’ll show them who's a baby! But they are bigger and tower over Lambert the way his father used to, and some of them have amber eyes and that means that they are even stronger.

“Useless in training.”

They are laughing and laughing and maybe they are right. 

“You’re going to die in the trials, baby.”

“That’s _enough_.” Vesemir roars, and the laughter silences, save for a single cry as Vesemir strikes the last boy to speak around the ear. 

“ _You_ can muck out the stables for that comment. And as for the rest of you, I recall more than one of you shedding tears your first few weeks with us.” Vesemir takes Lambert’s arm, and gently pulls him to the side. “Now go and find _another_ way of dealing with your insecurities.”

The boys mumble apologies, and walk away.

Lambert goes willingly with Vesemir. It hurts less if he doesn’t fight. Father taught him that lesson before Lambert learned how to walk.

“Eskel, Geralt. Another one for you, I think.” Lambert feels his hand being held up. “Have you met Lambert? He arrived just before autumn.”

“Hey, kid.” 

Lambert is looking at his own feet. He doesn’t see who is speaking. 

“It doesn’t matter if he misses training tomorrow.” Vesemir says. “Spend the day with him.”

“Of course.” 

Lambert’s tiny hand is taken by a larger, calloused one, and the boy closes his eyes. Tenses. 

And cries out as he is...lifted.

A witcher with long white hair holds Lambert against his chest, carrying him away from the main hall. Another Witcher walks with them, amber eyes shining as he smiles. 

“My room?”

“Hmmm.” The white haired witcher nods, and Lambert feels the arms around him tighten. 

“I’ll go ahead, light the fire.” The smiling witcher looks at Lambert. “See you there, Little Wolf.”

The room that he is taken to is small but comfortable, the white haired witcher sitting on the edge of the bed with the tiny child in his lap. The smiling witcher sits next to them, a book in his hand that he opens against his own lap.

“Once upon a time there was a sweet little girl.” He whispers the words. “Everyone who saw her liked her, but most of all her grandmother, who did not know what to give the child next.”

The white haired witcher listens as his older brother reads, all while rocking the child given over to their care. 

“Once she gave her a little hood made of red velvet. Because it suited her so well, and she wanted to wear it all the time, she came to be known as Little Red Riding Hood.”

Lambert leans forward, looking at the book in the smiling witcher’s lap, which is full of pictures and strange shapes. He doesn’t realise that he is reaching out until he sees his own hand, touching the shapes on the page. 

The witcher smiles. “That one says Grandmother.”

Lambert points at another word.

“Woods.” The witcher says. 

Another word, and the smiling witcher chuckles.

“That one says wolf.”

Lambert points from the word to himself, and the Witcher nods. 

“Wolf.” He looks at the White haired witcher, and they both nod before the smiling witcher stands. He returns with several sheets of paper and a pen, the paper leant against the book to form a makeshift table. 

“L.” He writes the letter. “A. M. B. E. R and T.” He holds the paper up to the boy, and runs his finger under the word. “Lam-bert. That’s your name written down.”

Lambert runs his own finger under the word. 

“Lambert...is...a...wolf.” He holds up another sheet of paper. “Now, point at your name.”

Lambert does so, and the witcher grins. 

“Well done. And the word for wolf?”

Lambert bites at his bottom lip, and curls in slightly until the smiling witcher reads the sentence again, his finger running under each word. “Lambert is a wolf.”

Lambert points at the word wolf, and the embrace is tightened.

“Good boy.” The white haired witcher says. 

And at that tiny bit of praise, Lambert smiles for the first time in forever as he leans against the Witchers chest. 

* * *

Jaskier is humming in the background as Eskel sits in front of Lambert, his legs positioned around the witcher and his arms moving to encircle him as they sit facing each other on the bed. 

The scarred witcher smiles, and kisses the younger wolf’s forehead, before tilting his head so that their foreheads are together, one hand sliding up to cup the back of Lambert’s head.

“Thank you.” Eskel whispers. “Thank you for trusting us with you tonight.”

Geralt nods, holding Lambert’s left hand while Jaskier takes hold of the right, each hand held in one while Jaskier and Geralt press their others gently against Lambert’s back. Anchors to the world. 

“That’s it.” Eskel says, quietly. “The four of us, we’re going to let go for a while. Forget the world outside this room and just be together.”

“We’re going to explore our relationship as a group.” Jaskier says. “Our bond.”

“And you’ll be safe with us, Lambert.” Eskel whispers. “I won’t tell you not to be scared, you can’t control that. And you’re letting yourself trust completely for maybe the first time in your life, it’s probably nerve wracking. _But_ , please know, we will protect you.”

“And you can stop this at any time?” Geralt nods. “Just say the word?”

“What is the word?” Lambert swallows. 

“Someone’s been reading the pamphlets at Crippled Kate’s.” Jaskier chuckles.

Eskel is smiling too, and Lambert feels himself tense. It’s a stupid question. They think he’s stupid for asking it. They...they _know_ this world and Lambert is as good as a virgin sat in the middle of them but...no. Eskel is smiling, but it isn’t condescending. It isn’t even amused. 

It’s the smile he had when Lambert was five and, after weeks of tuition, read out an entire page of the fairy tale book, while Geralt and Eskel watched.

“Let’s not make this more complicated than it needs to be.” Eskel says, patting Lambert’s face. “Just say stop if anything starts to freak you out.”

“And...and it’s normal? I’m not being weird. You don’t...”

“Yes.” Geralt nods. “It’s normal. Adults connecting physically and emotionally, sharing their touch and experiences.”

Eskel and Jaskier both nod. 

“And making something that will continue between them afterwards.” The bard says.

Lambert nods and lets out a breath, shifting to get more comfortable before relaxing, left hand squeezing Geralt’s hand. He smiles when Geralt squeezes back. 

Then Eskel kisses Lambert again, the kiss moving from his lips to the side of his jaw, and then again on his forehead as the scarred witcher’s hands slide up to the side of Lambert’s head, fingers gently running through his hair, still messy and unkempt from the bath, and brushing it away from the forehead, fingertips _just_ touching the skin before the hands go into Lambert’s scalp.

“Relax.” Geralt whispers. “We’ve got you.”

He feels Geralt and Jasker’s hands on his back. He feels Eskel’s hands as they return to his face, tracing from Lambert’s forehead and down the side of his face, stopping at the mouth before repeating the pattern. 

Lambert’s eyes slip closed and it starts at the back of his head. A humming that replaces his thoughts. He can feel his right hand in Jaskier’s lap, the bard’s thumb gently stroking across the sensitive skin on his wrist. His left hand is still being held by Geralt, while Geralt’s other hand has left Lambert’s back and is now gently stroking up and down the arm from wrist to elbow. 

Jaskier copies the motions, and as soon as the Bard’s tender fingers reach the crook of Lambert’s elbow he gasps, feeling the sensation shoot from shoulder to fingertip and back. Eskel presses their foreheads together again. “Shh. We’ve got you.”

“Humming.”

“It’s normal. This is _all_ normal.” He smiles. “Enjoy it.”

Lambert nods, and Eskel’s fingers move to the back of his neck. 

The hum follows, before falling down Lambert’s back to sit at the base of his spine, and Geralt and Jaskier have rolled up his shirt sleeves, the entire arm now their canvas as they continue their patterns.

Eskel strokes Lambert’s hair back, stroking around the ears. 

“Can...can you…” Lambert opens his eyes. He’s having trouble thinking. He takes his hand away from Geralt, and points at his ear.

“You didn’t like them being touched last time.”

“Just...I’ll say stop.”

Eskel smiles, and with one hand cupping the back of Lambert’s head he strokes a finger around the edge of Lambert’s ear before moving in to _just_ stroke along the flap, he then repeats the gesture on the other ear. 

When he does both at the same time, Lambert feels the humm fall into his legs, dragging his eyes closed as it does so. 

“Good?”

Lambert nods. It feels the same as before...but, different. “I like it now.” 

“You didn’t know what the sensation was before.” Eskel says, kissing him. “Now you do.”

He hears a whisper pass from Jaskier to Geralt, and he feels them his hands being lowered to rest on Eskel’s legs. There is a constant spot of pressure in Lambert’s head now, slightly to the right side, like an itch but not one he wants to scratch, and the hum radiates from it. The tingling sensation runs down his spine in wave after wave just from Eskel’s fingers on his hair and face. Jaskier and Geralt each place a hand on his back again, and he feels a kiss against his right shoulder, over the shirt. Then another on the right side of his face. 

“You’re doing great.” The bard says.

Lambert hums, nodding. He feels...something. Like he’s floating and if they all take their touch away now he’ll dissolve. But he isn’t afraid of them doing that. He knows they won’t. They won’t leave him alone here. 

He falls completely, following the hum into a place deep inside himself, somewhere where the world can’t find him. 

Somewhere that is _so_ safe. 

“Lambert...can I lift up the shirt? It’s better against skin.”

Lambert nods, and he feels Jaskier’s hand slide under the loose shirt, finger stopping at the point between his shoulder blades. 

And then….

He traces a single line down Lambert’s back, then across from his left side to his right. 

A triangle, with a line across the middle. 

Two triangles side by side. 

A line, and two semicircles along it. 

Lambert takes a deep breath, and Jaskier waits for his exhale before drawing a single line with three running from it across his back. Then an R shape.

And finally, a line with another across the top. 

Lambert smiles. 

_“L. A. M. B. E. R and T. Lam-bert. That’s your name written down.”_

Two upside down triangles. 

A circle.

A line down, then alone. 

A line with two lines coming out the top. 

_He points at the word wolf, and the embrace is tightened._

Lambert turns, looking to Jaskier’s face and seeing genuine happiness, even the eyes are bright, he turns and sees that it’s the same for Eskel.

The same for Geralt, now sat watching with a peaceful smile on his face.

A line down then along. 

A circle. 

A v shape

A line down, with three lines coming out of it. 

_L O V E_

Turning away from Eskel, Lambert reaches out with one hand and his eyes close one last time as Geralt pulls him back into the same embrace as earlier, letting the wolf rest against his shoulder, safe in his arms while Eskel strokes his hair, whispering praise. 

_Lambert smiles for the first time in forever as he leans against the Witchers chest._


End file.
